May I Remind You?
by The Konfessionist
Summary: Millicent Wellington was living the perfect life in Tenpenny Tower, until that letter fell into her lap. It couldn't possibly be his hand writing!... Could it? *One-shot, rated T for violent themes, mild swearing, and jabs at Butch's sexual orientation*


**Author's Note: Well! This is my first one-shot, so I hope it's good :3 I got the idea while playing through the Tenpenny Tower quest and trying to convince some of the bigoted residents to let Roy Philips and his comrades in, when I stumbled into Susan's room, looking for her, and I found a _lovely_ note written by Edgar Wellington III. Well... Needless to say, I couldn't just leave it alone! I had to tell Millicent! -halo of gold above my head-**

**So, here is my take on it. Changed up a few things... Little twist at the end, if you understand the gist of it ;3 Female Lone Wanderer named Claudia, with her loud-mouthed companion, Butch DeLoria! YAY!**

**I hope you enjoy... Leave a review!**

**Happy reading!**

**~Konfessionist out!~**

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm sorry.<em>" Claudia spoke with a concerned furrow between her obsidian eyebrows. "But I thought you should know…"

Millicent stared down at the damned letter, so neatly folded with crisp creases when she opened it up. The red seal was already broken, and she hadn't thought to look at the intricate detail of it- the cursive initials _**EW**_ screaming up at her giddily, the crest of olive leaves that encircled it- she hadn't thought to distinguish that the detail of the seal was _identical_ to that of her husband's family seal heirloom that was passed through generation after generation of Wellingtons.

"What-?" She began quietly with red seething behind the plump tears that blurred her eyes, sweaty palms clasping the damned _nightmare_ that threatened to ruin what two people in love shared- an oath. A sacred _promise_.

"I found that letter in Susan's room…" Claudia answered meekly. "I'm sorry, but I read it."

"What is the _meaning_ of this?" Millicent screeched, jumping up from her seat to point sharply at the letter in her quivering hold, eyes darting back to it to trace over the familiar curve of his 'S', the one-of-a-kind dash over his lowercase 'I' instead of a simple dot, the swooping tail of his 'Y'… There was no mistaking it. She could recognize her husband's handwriting anywhere… She knew it well as if it were a second language.

"Your husband's in love with Lancaster," She explained.

"_No!_ He- He can't be… He can't! This isn't real…" She gawked down at the trembling letter, imagining that the 'S' had harsh angles, the lowercase 'I' was a dot and not a dash, the tail of the 'Y' was straight and not gracefully maneuvered into a curve… Anything to help her believe it couldn't be _his_. But there it was, the second language she thought she knew by heart, condemning her to see how harsh and callous it was to her now that it had become loving to some other woman.

Millicent ripped her eyes away and inhaled her quaking bottom lip between her teeth to bite down on it. She wouldn't cry- she wouldn't give that _harlot_ or that _cheater_ the satisfaction of seeing her break down. Not now, not _ever._

Tenpenny Tower was a warm cocoon, its solid walls guarded by well armored and well equipped security guards that kept away the threat of the Wasteland. But looking at it now… Was this cocoon ever warm? Were these walls ever solid? They may have kept out the harm of the merciless Wasteland, but matters that ached her body more than a bullet wound or a skeleton of broken bones still managed to find its way to her. It took no survivors, it made no exception, and it could strike at anytime- the ache of _heartache._ The warm cocoon and the solid walls crumbled to her feet, because the perfect world of Tenpenny Tower- her sewing circle, her book club, discussing the latest scandals over hot coffee with the girls… It couldn't have been happening. All the warmth and security and leisure meant _nothing_ in her world if he wasn't a part of any of it… She couldn't have any of that without him to share it with.

"Would you like me to leave you alone, Millicent?" Claudia snapped her from her thoughts.

"Please." Millicent slapped the letter down onto the nearby table, ripping her eyes away from it to her hands, wringing themselves in front of her body. "If you see Edgar… Tell him to come back to the room." Her voice trembled as much as her body did, and it was not from shock or from sadness, it was from anger. It was from a pure, unbridled _rage_. She would not tolerate her "husband" doing this to her and thinking that he could get away with loving two women. She was to be his one and only.

But he was going to learn that he broke their sacred promise, and he was going to pay for it- _dearly._

* * *

><p>"Darling, I'm home." Edgar closed the front door, his suit jacket on his shoulder as he clicked the lock behind him. "You won't <em>believe<em> what I heard from Lydia today, it's absolutely _ludicrous!_ Remember the young ruffian that entered Tenpenny Tower a week ago with that ignorant thug of a companion? She's trying to _help_ those retched ghouls get into Tenpenny! _She's a __**zombie lover! **_Can you imagine?"

"No… I can't." Millicent answered impassively.

That was when Edgar realized that the room was pitch black.

"Mi- Millie, sweetheart?" He murmured, feeling along the wall for the light switch. "Why are all the lights off?"

He finally found the familiar outline of the switch and clicked it on, and he blinked to adjust them to the sudden harshness of the light. He saw Millicent sitting at his desk with a bottle of scotch in one hand and a letter in the other.

"Because I _turned_ them off, _sweetheart._" She spat acidly, allowing herself a chug of a sip from the bottle.

"You mustn't drink straight from the bottle- find a glass, it's much more ladylike." He scolded her, tossing his jacket onto the desk next to her and went to the cabinet to grab a shot glass.

"You know what _I_ heard from our _zombie lover_ today, Edgar?" Millicent asked, ignoring him completely to drink straight from the scotch bottle again.

"That those damned ghouls are people too? That they deserve to sit in the lap of luxury with the rest of us hardworking, honest to God people?" He snorted indifferently. "I do believe that the sun has fried her brain- or maybe she was peddling about in a radiation pocket for far too long that it has impaired her ability to think rationally!"

"I heard that you're in love with Susan Lancaster."

Edgar spun around to gawk down at his wife with a horrified look spreading across his face. That sentence alone finally caused him to look at her- _really_ look at her for the first time since he walked in the door. She looked beaten and tired, her hair was a mess and her eyes were swollen and an irritated shade of red. Liquor dribbled down in narrow streams from her trembling lips, sliding down her neck to stain the neckline of her favorite pink dress in little droplets. It was evident that she had been crying, and drinking, for quite some time now. At least he knew the reason why.

"You- You _honestly_ believe that- that _ne'er-do-well,_ Millie?" He asked in a strained voice, stepping towards her with an outstretched hand.

"I wouldn't have- if she didn't come to me with proof." Millicent tossed the letter to him as she knocked back another heavy swallow of scotch.

It fluttered to his slightly scuffed shoes, looking as crisp and clean as he had remembered it to be from when he slipped it into that envelope, stamped it with his family seal and a kiss, and slid it under Susan's door. It was for Susan's eyes _only-_ how could Millicent possibly come into possession of it?

…_Claudia._

"You slept with that disease-infested _harlot,_ didn't you?" She asked heatedly, head snapping up so her eyes pierced through his with pupils as sharp and menacing as pins or needles.

"Millie, I can explain! I can-"

"_Don't_ call me that." Millicent barked, picking up her scotch bottle to spill it over, splashing its contents all over his suit jacket. "You don't have the right to anymore."

"_My new suit!_" Edgar exclaimed, glaring at her. "There's no need to be brash!"

"Brash? _Brash?_" She howled, standing up. "_This_ is _me_ being _**brash!**_" She hurled the bottle at him.

He cried out as it collided into his shoulder and fell to the floor, shattering, and the sharp pieces scuttled about in all different directions to slide under the assorted furniture of their apartment with the sound of tinkling glass.

"Millicent, please! We can talk this out, can't we?" He stepped towards her, trying to grab for her hands to hold them in his. "I _still_ love you…"

"Look in the bedroom." She yanked her hands back, eyes glazing over with another wave of oncoming tears.

"Wha- What? What for?"

"Just do it." She snapped, moving to the cabinet to skim over the alcoholic contents for something else now that she wasted the rest of her scotch.

Edgar reluctantly shuffled to the corner of the apartment where their bed was and flicked on the light, finding his clothing ripped and tattered across the room, all his belongings broken beyond repair, and his eyes widened when a distinct clicking noise echoed behind his head. He spun on his heel to be staring down the barrel of a 10mm pistol.

"Mi- Millie?" He squeaked, backing away slowly. "Don't… Don't do this! _Please!_"

"You broke your sacred promise…" Millicent murmured, gun shaking in her hand with her finger hesitantly hovering over the trigger, her vision bleary and unfocused.

After Claudia left, Millicent tore their apartment apart- killing any memory they had made together, tearing up his clothes and destroying his belongings- all the while thinking that he wouldn't need them where he was going… All the while thinking that she _could_ do this, that she had the _right_ to do this. He destroyed everything they built together, everything that they had become, everything she _was_ and thought that she _knew._ She had the right to destroy him… Didn't she? This wasn't just about teaching him a lesson, to adhere to his promises, but to avenge what he let die- her love, her trust, and his loyalty.

"You broke your sacred promise, Edgar…" She murmured again, lip quivering between her teeth as she tried to hold back her tears. Although her vision was shaky and he was a fuzzy blur of a white suit, lightly tanned skin, and neatly combed brunette hair, she still saw him. That handsome face, gleaming eyes with smiling lips moving to the words of love songs and poetry that he once serenaded her with… Edgar had always been a true romantic, she recalled. But shortly after finding refuge in Tenpenny Tower… Things had changed. Tenpenny Tower changed him. Had it changed her? Had it changed _them?_

"Millicent, give me the gun." Edgar pleaded, reaching a hand out to her. "Pl- Please… _I love you._"

"I-…" Millicent tightly screwed her eyes shut, bringing her other hand up to clasp onto her shaking hand holding the gun to steady it, and liquid warmth spilled down her cheeks like the whiskey that spilled down her throat. The alcohol wasn't steeling her for this, no, not at all. She opened her eyes, brows furrowing together and she bared her teeth back into a snarl. She couldn't be weak. Not now, she couldn't be merciful at a time like this. Not when it was so close; not when _she_ was so close to being free.

"I-… _Don't_ love you. Not anymore."

Red pulsed behind her eyes with the click the trigger in her hand. With the blare of the gun, she saw red splattered across her dress, across the floor, across the cold bed as Edgar's lifeless body slumped to the floor with a brazen circle of red dotted between his eyes, which had rolled up into his skull. Then she saw nothing but black as she dashed from their apartment, leaving the door ajar for Tenpenny residents to come and investigate the commotion and find her horrid trail of carnage. But her mission wasn't done yet, and she knew she was going to give the residents something else to talk about.

* * *

><p>Millicent raced down the steps leading to the lobby of Tenpenny Tower, the usual familiar music playing around her but fruitless in trying to invade her eardrums over the sound of her rapidly beating heart. It was pounding against her ribcage like a sledgehammer, and she only thought of how cold the foreign object in her hand felt as it weighed down against her thigh. She wasn't skilled with weapons, she never had the reason to, and it was almost sad that she felt this was as good a time as any to learn how to use the damn thing. It was a sad sort of justice; the poetically depressing sort of justice.<p>

Tenpenny inhabitants murmured with wide eyes and pointed with grueling fingers at the suspicious dimples of blood that soiled her dress. Security guards looked on with nervous expressions twisting their usually indifferent faces, all looking to Chief Gustavo for course of action. Word must not have caught up that Edgar Wellington III was killed by his wife, and that it would probably be in the best interests of the other residents' safety to exile her to the Wasteland. If she were going to be vulgar, corrupt and a murderer- the act had _no_ place in Tenpenny.

She was going to find Susan Lancaster, and she would avenge her broken heart. A woman like that could not know love, she could only know love in the sense of physical need… How could anyone love Susan Lancaster? Well, Edgar could, obviously. But look at where that ended him.

Millicent's ears caught the sound of that obnoxious swill of giggling from Café Beau Monde, and she quickly scurried over with her gun held at her side, the folds of her dress concealing it as some of the more curious guards followed her quickly and quietly into the restaurant. She immediately spotted the resident whore, giggling like a schoolgirl with a meek crush and batting her eyelashes like a skilled Black Widow as she played footsie with Michael Hawthorne under one of the back tables. Her chin was rested in the cradle of her interlaced fingers, elbows on the table to hold her up.

"Now, now Hawthorne… No need to get _antsy_ for a drink- it's only 1 in the afternoon!" She swooned.

"A stiff drink isn't the _only_ thing I'm antsy for Susan," The tower's drunkard replied with a sinful grin.

"Lancaster," Millicent called as she stopped behind her.

Susan spun around in her chair to look up at the widowed Mrs. Wellington as Hawthorne's eyes widened, and he pointed at her dress.

"_Whoa!_ Is that- is that _blood?_"

"I- I loved that stupid man…" Millicent murmured to Susan, the tears swelling on her eyelashes. "Without him… _Because of __**you…**_ I'm lost."

Susan didn't have time to answer as she pulled her gun from the folds of her dress and pressed it to the mistress' forehead, pushing down on the trigger to unleash a barrage of rounds into the woman's skull. Susan's corpse hitched back onto the table, knocking over the remnants of her last lunch onto the floor and her limbs settled in awkward angles over the edges, head lolling back into Hawthorne's lap as he hollered and yelled for all he was worth. Blood dribbled under her body in a glimmering pool of crimson, tainting everything it touched like a foul disease.

The Tenpenny security that had followed her into the café quickly jumped into action, grabbing Millicent by her arms and prying the gun from her fingers. They twisted her arm behind her back to restrain her as they hauled her out of the café.

Let them take her away and throw her out there, let them stand and stare- say and see how empty she had become with a loaded gun and a need for vengeance. Tenpenny Tower meant nothing to her anymore- now that he was gone… Let them take her away and throw her out there, let the Wasteland swallow her whole, let the buzzards and the things she once feared pick off what remained of her broken carcass. She hoped _every_ last one of them would rot away in those walls- she hoped Claudia would be able to let those ghouls in, just to spite them _all._

_I loved that stupid man… Now that he's gone- I'm lost._

* * *

><p>Claudia sat at the desk in the Tenpenny lobby, slouched back in her chair with her arms folded behind her head and her feet up on the desk, crossed at her ankles and a lit cigarette burned away between her full, smiling lips. She watched the scene that unfolded, watching the symphony that she had composed blissfully play note upon note without a single sour key. Everything fell into place <em>perfectly.<em> She couldn't have asked for a better display.

Millicent Wellington, widow of the late Edgar Wellington III, was being dragged away by two of the Tenpenny Tower security guards. It looked like she was willingly complying with being kicked out of the tower for the murder of Susan Lancaster and of said late husband, but Claudia supposed that she looked nothing like a vacant shell of a once successful woman without a care in this decrepit world. She looked like she didn't care if she lived with the consequences or died out there, where she tried so hard to keep herself sheltered away from.

"Wow- it happened _just_ like 'ya said it would…" Butch murmured, a little fearfully, as he glanced over to Claudia. "You psychic er somethin'?"

"Not at all, DeLoria." She giggled, glancing over to her companion and scratched the side of her head. "I just know how people work, I know how they think and _react_."

"Would 'ya knock it off or keep it to yourself? It's creepin' me the hell out!"

She laughed, shaking her head and unfolded her arms from behind her head to fold them over her chest. "So who else is on our list?"

"Uh- the pansy that runs the clothing store and the Montenegro broad." He replied, handing her their target list where red dashes of ink sprawled across the names **Susan Lancaster**, **Edgar Wellington III** and **Millicent Wellington**were just beginning to dry. "Claude, I'm all for getting those zombies into the tower, but… Do we hafta go around turnin' people on each other?"

"Lancaster was a slaver, and a prostitute, for Paradise Falls. I know because Grouse asked me to slap a collar on her." She shrugged. "Turned him down and busted a cap on his stupid ass 'cause he didn't shove out enough caps to interest me. He was trying to screw me over," She glanced to the Tunnel Snake. "The Wellingtons were stuck up bigots, a bunch of cocky pricks that needed to be put in their place."

"You sayin' they deserved it?" Butch cocked his head to the side, tossing back a shot of whiskey.

"I'm saying their assholes, so helping Phillips and his friends just happened to give me a good reason to shove a boot up their uptight asses." Claudia replied, exhaling a wispy cloud of cigarette smoke into the air, tapping the burning ashes onto the tiled floor. "Or maybe I just didn't like their attitude."

"That's cold man," He shook his head disapprovingly. "_Real_ cold."

"You knew my reputation well when I asked you to join up with me," She shot him a sly grin as she got up from her chair, pulling her gloves off to reveal the tattoos that danced across the back of her hands and the skin between the knuckles of her fingers. "C'mon Serpent King- let's go talk to our friendly neighborhood _confirmed bachelor_ about his new neighbors… I think with that silver tongue of yours, _you_ could convince him to let them stay here. Or maybe letting him tame your _tunnel snake_ would be enough to get him to say yes?" She snickered arrogantly.

"Piss off, pip-squeak. Butch DeLoria is all ladies man," He exclaimed with an angry blush coming to his cheeks.

"Whatever you say. I still think you're a closet gay."

"Piss. _Off._"


End file.
